


Wherever You Are

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-War, Romance, Second War with Voldemort, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-16
Updated: 2008-08-16
Packaged: 2018-10-26 13:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10787892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Harry/Ron - Everywhere he went, it seemed that people died; his parents, Cedric, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Hedwig. Who was next?





	Wherever You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** **Ships:** Harry/Ron  
>  **Rating:** **NC-17**  
>  **Warnings:** Slash, DH Spoilers (Deaths), First Time  
>  **A/N:** I tried to make the story as canon as Ron/Harry can be. It was my first ever attempt at writing slash, and any kind of smut at all actually. This story takes place during the plot of Deathly Hallows. I imagine that it happens somewhere between pages 75 and 76, at the beginning of Chapter 6.

Harry looked at the clock, lit up by the light that was slowly creeping in through Ron’s window. It was half past five on Monday morning and Harry still hadn’t been to sleep.

He’d only been at The Burrow for one whole day and already he wanted to leave. He’d never been desperate to leave the Weasley home before, but now Mad-Eye was dead, Hedwig was... Harry gulped. He couldn’t bring himself to admit it, even in his own head.  For two nights Harry had lay awake for hours, trying desperately to sleep but his mind wouldn’t allow it. It seemed that every time he closed his eyes he relived the night he had flown from Privet Drive. If it wasn’t for him, Mad-Eye would still be alive, and Hedwig would be sat on top of Ron’s wardrobe with Pig.

It was made worse by the fact that Hedwig had been mad at him… she’d ignored him for days beforehand because he hadn’t let her out to fly. She was so stubborn, but who could blame her? She’d been cooped up for weeks and then she’d… she’d been killed. If she had made it to the Burrow, he could have let her out, and Harry knew that she’d have nipped him affectionately on the finger when she returned. Harry knew she would have forgiven him. However, knowing this didn’t make her death any easier to deal with.

Harry had spent all of Sunday trying his best to spend as much time alone as possible. He didn’t want to lose it in front of anybody. He didn’t want to be there, he didn’t want to put anybody else in danger. Everywhere he went, it seemed that people died; his parents, Cedric, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Hedwig. Who was next?

Guilt and grief ate away at his insides and he couldn’t hold it in any longer. His eyes stung as he tried his best to hold back the tears that he hadn’t yet wept, but it all became too much and, before he knew it, he was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Huh?” came a sleepy and slightly annoyed voice from behind him. “Harry?” Ron said, this time his voice laden with concern and with no hint of irritation. Harry tried to stifle his sobs but ended up choking on them instead. He instinctively sat up when he coughed, making it much easier to breathe. Ron climbed out of bed and sat on the edge of Harry’s. “You alright, mate?”

“I’m… fine,” Harry struggled to say unconvincingly as he lay back down, turning away from Ron, humiliated at being found weeping like a girl.

“Yeah,” Ron said sarcastically, “you look fine an’ all. C’mon, talk to me. You’ve been avoiding us all today. You need to let it out, mate.”

Harry took a couple of deep breaths and managed to control himself a little.

“I’m okay, Ron. Really,” Harry told him thickly.

“Why are you being like this? You couldn’t possibly convince me that you’re okay.” Ron told him, a little irritably. “In fact, I’d think less of you if you were, considering all that you’ve been through… all that you are still going through. It’s what I’m here for, Harry. Why won’t you talk to me?”

Ron raised a hand gingerly and placed it on Harry’s shoulder. He was shaking, but he tensed at the unexpected and rather unfamiliar touch. He began to cry again, more quietly this time, and Ron tried to calm him by stroking his hand across Harry’s back.

He felt a little awkward, not knowing what else to say, but he thought he should let Harry get it all out. After a few minutes Ron lay beside Harry, facing his back and continued to soothe him. He ran his hand cautiously along Harry’s arm and felt Harry stiffen again. They weren’t usually very touchy feely but Ron thought the circumstances made it a lot easier and a lot more acceptable. He moved a little closer to Harry and moved his hand around to his chest, hugging him from behind. He placed his forehead on the back of Harry’s neck and tried to whisper comforting words to him.

“Shhh… It’s okay, mate. I’m here. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Harry forced out between hushed sobs. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

“What are you sorry for?” Ron asked quietly.

“Everything,” Harry told him. He tried to continue but found it impossible to string together a coherent sentence. Ron caught words and short phrases.

"Hedwig… my fault…everyone… dead.”

“Shhh… don’t be a git,” Ron responded. “None of this is your fault Harry, it’s _his_ fault. It’s all _his_ fault.” He gave Harry a squeeze, and stroked his hand gently back and forth across his chest. “Come on, Harry. Calm down. Breathe, mate… that’s it.”

Harry tried to take deep breaths as Ron instructed him, and soon found he was beginning to compose himself. As his thoughts became sane again and he was able to speak more clearly, he offered his thanks to Ron.

“Welcome,” Ron replied softly. Now that he was more rational, Harry’s thoughts became fixed on how close Ron was to him. What had felt unfamiliar at first was beginning to feel less so, comfortable even. He felt reassured by the embrace, and was sure that if it hadn’t been for Ron’s comforting touch he would have struggled to regain control of himself. He could feel Ron’s breath on his shoulder blades every time he exhaled, and he was aware that the pace of his own breathing had adjusted to match Ron’s.

Concentrating on Ron’s breathing and the hand moving lightly across his chest made Harry feel comforted and safe, which meant he found it a lot easier to fall asleep.

  
~*~*~*~*~  
  


  
Harry woke at noon, Ron’s arm still draped over him and snoring down his left ear. He felt his face flush as he realized were he was and who was lying next to him. It was a good job Ron always slept late, Harry thought to himself, his face growing even redder at the thought of Mrs Weasley strolling in to the room to wake them up and catching them in this unusual position.

He tried to gently lift Ron’s arm off himself, not wanting to wake him, as he didn’t have a clue what they could say should they both wake in such embarrassing circumstances. Ron snorted and Harry’s heart stopped, but Ron rolled over so that his back was to Harry and began snoring again.

Harry quietly picked up his clothes and sneaked out of the room.

When he reached the bathroom across the hall, he locked the door behind him. He walked over to the sink and splashed his face with some cold water. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he noticed that, despite the temperature of the water, his cheeks still held a warm flush of embarrassment. He washed and dressed slowly before making his way downstairs for breakfast.

As he walked down the narrow stairs of The Burrow he felt a mixture of confusion and shame.

He and Ron very rarely hugged. As far as Harry was aware, they very rarely showed any physical affection at all. That wasn’t what boys did, was it? And that was with their clothes _on_ , never mind whilst half naked. Should what happened last night have had such an affect on him? Ron was just helping out his best friend. Harry had been comforted by the actions of his best friend. There was nothing shameful or embarrassing about that, surely.

Harry entered the kitchen and saw that Mrs Weasley was busy making breakfast for Hermione, who was still in her pyjamas. Through the kitchen window he could see the Weasley children helping with preparations for the wedding in the garden, although, he could hear a lot of laughter and suspected that not much work was being done.

“Good morning,” Hermione said. “Or should I say good afternoon?” she added with a smirk.

“Afternoon,” he replied with a forced smile. He sat across from Hermione and watched her face turn back towards a book in front of her on the table. Harry frowned, trying to imagine how it would feel if Hermione had been in Ron’s place last night.

Their relationship had always been very platonic but, at the same time, affectionate. Neither of them had trouble hugging each other; they did it quite often in fact. They often exchanged innocent physical gestures and Harry struggled to see if he could remember whether he and Ron were the same way. The more he thought about it, the more he noticed that they did not touch very often at all; an occasional hand of encouragement on the shoulder, or friendly handshake perhaps, but very little else.

“Is Ron not awake yet?” Mrs Weasley asked, interrupting his thoughts and placing a plate, loaded with bacon, eggs, beans and toast, in front of him. “Oh, speak of the devil,” she added, turning to fill another plate.

Harry looked up to see Ron walk over to Hermione and sit next to her. It seemed to Harry that Ron was deliberately avoiding eye contact with him; he didn’t even acknowledge that Harry was there at all really. Harry felt a horrible, heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. Ron was trying to pretend that he was interested in whatever book it was that Hermione was reading. Ron was never very subtle when it came to his emotions and it was obvious that he was feeling just as embarrassed, if not more embarrassed, than Harry was.

“Morning,” Harry tried, sheepishly.

“Yeah,” Ron replied, coughing uncomfortably, "morning.”

He didn’t look up from the book. Harry shifted in his seat awkwardly and stared at his plate, picking at his food. He didn’t know what else to say.

The entire day was spent helping to prepare The Burrow for Bill’s wedding. They were sent to do different jobs, separated from each other by Mrs Weasley. Harry was sent to clear out one of the rooms upstairs and bumped into Ron who was coming down.

“Sorry,” they both said quickly, and Ron almost ran down the stairs to get away from Harry and the uncomfortable silence that followed. Harry didn’t know whether he was annoyed or relieved that Ron was avoiding him.

Even when Mrs Weasley wasn’t intent on splitting the trio up, Harry and Ron barely spoke a word to each other. The three of them sat in the living room that night whilst Mrs Weasley was busy cooking something for supper, and the boys listened to Hermione tell them in a hushed voice about some preparations that she had been making for the hunt.

“What is wrong with you two?” she asked them worriedly for the third time. “You’ve barely spoken two words out loud all day.”

“Nothing,” Ron said quickly. “There’s nothing wrong.”

“We’re just tired,” Harry lied. “We didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

Hermione seemed to think this an appropriate excuse after everything that had happened on Saturday night, so she didn’t press for any more details.

With this excuse, Ron went up to bed shortly after supper. Harry remained downstairs talking to Fred and George until the early hours of the morning, hoping that Ron would be asleep by the time he went to bed. When the twins declared that they were off to bed, he had no choice but to walk upstairs with them, leaving them on the second floor and walking the rest of the way. He hoped that everything would be all right in the morning. How could he and Ron keep this up without Hermione asking more questions? He didn’t want it to be awkward anymore; he just wanted everything to go back to normal. He didn’t really understand why it was so awkward. Nothing much had happened, really.

Harry stood outside of the door to Ron’s room for a few seconds, before taking a deep breath and pushing it slowly open. He winced as it creaked and looked towards Ron, to make sure that the noise hadn’t woken him. Ron was facing the wall next to his bed and snoring. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He changed as quietly as he could and lay down on the camp bed.

Harry tossed and turned for about an hour, but he couldn’t sleep. In the dark and silent room, it seemed that memories had a way of coming back to him. He felt empty, he couldn’t cry any more. He stared up at the ceiling, willing the screams and green flashes to disappear. Ron mumbled quietly in his sleep, and Harry’s attention shifted.

Ron had helped him to sleep just by lying next to him. He needed Ron to cope with all of this. He couldn’t bear that Ron wasn’t talking to him on top of everything else. He wondered whether the same thing would help tonight, and then tried to force the idea out of his head. Ron wouldn’t allow it of course; he’d think Harry had gone mental. As if things weren’t awkward enough. But the more he tried not to think about it, the more he wanted Ron next to him. What was he turning in to? He remembered how Ron had caressed his chest the night before, and he felt an unusual fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach.

After another hour or so, when he still couldn’t sleep, he decided on something he had been debating in his own head for the last thirty minutes or so. He sat up and quietly pulled back his covers. He swung his legs off the bed, and put his feet on the floor. The butterflies returned in full force at the thought of what he was about to do. He thought about lying back down, but he knew he’d toss and turn all night. He just wanted to sleep; that was all, right?

Harry crept across the floor and stood next to Ron’s bed. He tried to whisper his name, but the fact that his throat had suddenly become very dry meant that no words came out. He swallowed and tried to clear his throat gently.  “Ron.” He tried again, “Ron.”

  
“Huh?” Ron turned over hastily, propping himself up on one elbow and squinted through the darkness. “Harry? Wassup?” he said groggily.   
  
“I can’t sleep,” he answered timidly.  
  
“Oh, Harry, mate, what d’you expect me to do about it?” Ron said crossly, rubbing his right eye with his fist and settling his head back down on his pillow.  
  
“I was just thinking… well, I was just wondering if… well, actually, never mind. Go back to sleep. Sorry.” 

 Harry changed his mind very quickly. What a stupid, _stupid_ idea. Ron would think he was crazy. He shuffled slowly back to the camp bed, but Ron’s voice stopped him half way.

“You can… I mean, if you want,” he said uncomfortably.

Worried that he might change his mind, Harry almost ran to the bed, and he slid in awkwardly next to him. They both stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes in total silence.

“Well, 'night,” Ron muttered, turning over to face the opposite direction.

“Why were you ignoring me today?” Harry had said the words out loud before he even realised it. He couldn’t bear another day like this one. How long would it go on for? They had to leave for the hunt soon, and he knew they had to get back to normal before then.

“I wasn’t…” Ron began, turning back to face Harry.

However, seeing the sceptical look Harry was wearing made him give up before he’d really even started.

“Sorry,” he offered, “but you ignored me too.”

“I know,” Harry admitted. “Sorry.”

“Sorry about last night too. It was all a bit weird really, wasn’t it?” Even in the darkness Harry could tell that Ron’s ears were turning pink. “I was only trying to help.”

“You did,” Harry said simply.

“Really?” Ron asked doubtfully.

“Why would I ask again tonight?” Harry suggested. The butterflies were doing an elaborate dance around his stomach now. He felt tremendously nervous without knowing why.

“Well, I don’t really think ‘well… I was wondering… erm… if… never mind’ is really asking but...” Ron said, smirking.

“Oh, shut up.” Harry interrupted, but he couldn’t keep a small smile off his face.

Ron’s face turned more serious and he asked, “So, you’re all right? I mean, better than last night?”

Harry nodded.

“Good,” Ron smiled, and he turned to face the wall again, not saying another word.

Harry lay there for a few more minutes, and then turned to face Ron and shifted a little closer to him. Although he’d never felt so nervous in his life, the butterflies seemed to be giving him a sort of confidence, and he put a hand carefully on Ron’s waist, anxious about what Ron’s reaction might be.

Ron shuffled back a little towards him, closing any distance there had been between them. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. This should feel weird, he thought. It didn’t. There was a little trace of awkwardness in the air, of course, it was strange and unfamiliar, but it also felt really... nice.

Harry cuddled his arm around Ron’s waist and Ron put his own hand on top of Harry’s. It sent a tingle across Harry’s skin there, and he frowned. That sort of didn’t happen with your best friend. Harry gulped. He’d never really had this sort of feeling before… perhaps with Ginny a little, but nothing like this.  Hold on… he was thinking about Ron in the same way he thought about Ginny? He didn’t _like_ Ron. He _couldn’t_ like Ron.

He wasn’t unattractive, Harry found himself thinking. In fact, Harry wished that he had a body like Ron’s. Not that he made a habit of perving on his best friend but, in the showers, it was hard not to have an occasional glance, especially when someone was as well-built as Ron. His whole body was toned and covered in beautiful freckles. Harry felt his face heating as he realised he was picturing Ron’s naked body.

Not only that though, Ron had always been there for him, even when it was really hard. He had volunteered to come with Harry on the Horcrux hunt. He had risked his life for Harry numerous times, and Harry was in no doubt that he would do it again in a second.  Harry felt his stomach twist into a painful knot at the thought of Ron dying. This hunt was going to be so dangerous; they would be lucky to make it out alive. He couldn’t bear the thought of Ron dying. What would he do without him? Hermione was coming too of course and, whilst the thought of her dying terrified him, he found himself thinking that he’d rather it was her than Ron.  He was repulsed at his own thoughts, disgusted in himself. Surely that wasn’t normal. But he didn’t think he could live if he didn’t have Ron. Ron was the most important person in the world to him. For the first time in a long time, Harry realised that he had found somewhere that he was safe; somewhere he felt like he belonged… somewhere he was loved. The truth was, that was wherever Ron was.

“I don’t want you to die,” Harry whispered suddenly.

“What?” Ron asked incredulously, still facing the wall.

“I don’t want you to die. This hunt is going to be dangerous and…”

“Oh, Harry, don’t start. We’re coming with you and that’s all there is to it,” he said, seriously. “Besides, what would we do if we didn’t come with you? Go back to Hogwarts without you? I don’t think so. There’s no way I could cope with Hermione on my own.”

Harry smiled. He knew it was Ron’s way of telling him that he needed Harry, just like he needed Ron.

They lay in silence for a while. Ron was absently stroking Harry’s hand with his thumb and Harry was afraid to do anything that might make him stop. Ron’s touch sent gooseflesh across his skin. The seemingly innocent touch was making Harry imagine a whole lot of not-so-innocent things. He imagined what it would feel like to have Ron touch his face, his lips, his chest, his…

He’d gone too far and now his body was starting to act of its own accord. He was aware that his heartbeat seemed to be going at twice the usual speed, and tingles were racing around his entire body.

His body was reacting in a way that was very inconvenient when he was pressed so close to Ron’s body. He tried to think of anything that might help with his hardening cock before it was too late but nothing seemed to work as Ron continued to caress him.

All of a sudden, he felt Ron’s body tense, as his “little problem” became a much bigger problem. Harry was panicking. He couldn’t believe it. He was lying next to his best mate and he was hard. Ron was going to hate him. He had stopped moving his thumb now, and Harry was waiting for him to turn around and yell 'what the fuck do you think you’re doing?' The panic took care of his erection and it softened a little, but not completely.

Harry held his breath and closed his eyes, but nothing happened. Maybe Ron hadn’t noticed, he thought. However, just as relief began to wash over him, he felt Ron’s fingers close around his wrist gently.

_Shit_ , Harry thought, but Ron lifted Harry’s hand quietly and moved it downwards. Harry gasped audibly as Ron placed his hand over his own rather large problem. He could feel Ron through his boxer shorts, and Harry immediately hardened again.

Instinct told Harry to move his hand away, but Ron caught his arm and pressed himself against it. Harry had never been so turned on in his life and, although he was trying to convince himself that this was wrong, he couldn’t bring his hand away again. If it was so wrong, why did Ron obviously want it too? If it was wrong, why did it feel so amazing?

Harry slowly moved his hand back and forth across the fabric of Ron’s underwear. Ron was still holding his wrist making sure he didn’t try to escape again. Then, he began to rock a little, pushing himself harder into Harry’s palm. Harry was facing the back of Ron’s neck and, without thinking, Harry kissed him there. It seemed to take Ron by surprise, because he stopped rocking and loosened his grip on Harry’s wrist.

“Harry?” he whispered breathlessly. “Is this weird?”

“A bit,” he admitted, but he didn’t want to stop.

“Should we stop?”

“If you want to,” Harry replied, unconvincingly.

“I don’t.”

He reached again for Harry’s hand, and he placed it just underneath the waistband of his boxers.

“This okay?” he asked.

Harry seemed to have lost the power of speech. As an answer, he moved his hand further into his best friends’ shorts and let his fingers enclose around Ron's cock, just slightly thicker than his own. He moved his hand slowly up and down the shaft until he heard small grunts and moans from Ron.

The sound was amazing. He’d heard Ron wanking before of course, at the dormitories in Hogwarts, but the fact that he was the one making Ron sound like this made Harry’s own untouched cock throb.

Ron stilled Harry’s hand and withdrew it. He hastily began to remove his boxer shorts and threw them to the floor next to the bed. He turned to face Harry and they stared at each other through the darkness for a few seconds.

Harry was nervous. He could feel his entire body shaking, but it wasn’t an entirely bad thing. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he was more nervous or excited. He noticed Ron leaning forwards and he closed his eyes slightly, preparing for a kiss, but it didn’t come. His eyes fluttered open again to see Ron silently debating whether or not he should do it. Remembering that Ron had been bold and had made the first move, Harry returned the favour by surprising Ron when he leaned up and pressed their lips together. The kiss was brief and gentle. Ron’s lips felt softer than he would have imagined. Harry pulled back.

Ron frowned.  “But… but we’re not gay,” he breathed.  Harry shook his head gently, frowning too. How was it that this didn’t feel wrong at all? How was it that he had just been touching another bloke’s cock and he wasn’t repulsed by it?

At the thought of touching Ron’s cock a sudden burst of desire ran through Harry’s entire body, and before he knew it he had leaned up again and pressed his lips against Ron’s. It was harder this time, and Harry opened his mouth very slightly. His hand was at the back of Ron’s neck and he pulled him down towards the bed. Ron obliged and leaned over Harry. He caught Harry’s bottom lip between his own, and Harry took the opportunity to gently flick Ron’s top lip with his tongue. Ron responded enthusiastically and a few minutes later the two boys were kissing passionately, their tongues dancing around each other's mouths.

Ron was holding him at the shoulders, his fingers gripping hold of him so tight that he was likely to bruise. One of Harry’s hands was gripping the hair at the back of Ron’s head, and the other was gripping one of his wrists, vaguely aware that Ron’s fingernails were digging into him.

“Ron…” Harry breathed, as they broke apart for the first time. He tugged involuntarily at Ron’s wrist, more aware of the pain now that he didn’t have Ron’s mouth to distract him. “You're hurting me…”

Ron immediately removed his hands from Harry’s shoulders and placed them on the pillow either side of his head.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“It's okay,” Harry replied softly.

They were both breathless. Harry could feel Ron’s heart beating rapidly through his chest, and his own was doing the same. He could feel Ron’s cock pressed against his hip, and his nerves seemed to have totally been replaced by lust when he murmured, “Touch me…”

“Sure?” Ron asked. He still looked nervous, like he thought Harry was about to change his mind at any moment.

Harry didn’t think he’d ever been surer of anything in life. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything more in his life.

He nodded, and Ron lifted one of his hands to trail his fingers down Harry’s side. When he neared the waistband of Harry’s boxer shorts, Harry closed his eyes and held his breath but Ron’s hand glided over the waistband and he touched Harry’s cock lightly over the fabric. He cupped Harry’s hard erection and moved his hand slowly back and forth.

Harry arched into Ron’s hand slightly, pressing himself harder against Ron’s hand but he heard himself say, “No…”

Ron’s hand snapped away from his crotch.

“No, no take them off.” Harry insisted hoarsely, and to encourage Ron further he moved his own hands down to push the shorts over his cock, which sprang out over the waistband eagerly. Ron helped to pull them off and then Harry, holding Ron’s wrist in the same way that Ron had held his earlier, guided Ron's hand towards him.

Harry felt like his heart had stopped beating when Ron’s fist wrapped around his cock carefully. He gripped the sheets tightly and couldn’t help but thrust upwards into Ron’s hand. Small moans and grunts began to escape his lips, and Ron ran his thumb across the head of Harry’s swollen cock and spread the bead of pre-come that had escaped.

Ron seemed to be spurred on by the sounds that were coming from Harry, and he leant over to kiss him again. He tried to rub his own erection discreetly against Harry’s leg but Harry felt it press against him, stiff and slightly moist.

Harry broke the kiss and moved his hand to wrap around Ron’s length, wanting to see the look on Ron’s face when he touched him. Ron’s own hand stilled for a few seconds as Harry moved his own, and he closed his eyes. He thrust into Harry’s hand three times, and then came without warning over Harry’s legs and the bed.

“Shit…” Ron cursed and he fell next to Harry, burying his face in the pillow. He was obviously embarrassed that he had let himself go so early and Harry heard what might have been a 'sorry' spoken into the pillow.

Harry didn’t mind. He really didn’t mind at all. The look on Ron’s face as he came was possibly the most incredible thing he had ever witnessed. It had almost made him finish at exactly the same time.

He raised himself onto an elbow next to Ron and let his other hand rest on Ron’s shoulder.

“It’s fine, mate,” he said soothingly.

Ron shook his head against the pillow and, unthinkingly, Harry crawled onto his back gently and began to kiss his neck and shoulder blades reassuringly.

His nerves seemed to have completely disappeared. There was nothing at all to be afraid or embarrassed about. Earlier, he had worried about what Ron thought of him, but this was Ron; his best mate.

Harry felt Ron relax underneath him as he continued to leave a trail of kisses across the hundreds of freckles on his back, and he couldn't help but rub his still-hard cock against Ron's arse.

Ron turned his head to the side so that his voice wasn’t muffled.

"You’re right,” Ron said calmly, “it is fine.”

Harry frowned.

“How do you mean?” he asked between kisses.

“I’m hard again," he replied easily.

Harry smiled against his skin.

"Really?”

“Hmm… Harry?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to…?” Ron asked hesitantly.

Harry didn’t need to ask what he meant. His dick gave another aching throb at the thought of what Ron was asking him to do.

"Do you want me to?” Harry whispered. Ron buried his face again in the pillow and nodded slowly. Harry’s heart quickened, and he slid from Ron’s back and moved a hand down to his arse.  

He moved his thumb between Ron’s cheeks, not completely sure how to start, and Ron moved onto his knees so that his arse was raised in the air. Harry’s fingers brushed against the tight circle of muscle there. He felt Ron’s arse clench and knew enough about this sort of thing to know that it was never going to work unless Ron was relaxed. It would help if he had a little lubricant too.   
  
He glanced over at the bedside table where Ron’s wand was. He knew a pretty simple spell that he’d experimented with once or twice before and he reached over for the wand. He positioned himself behind Ron, and the non-verbal spell meant he was able to silently lube his fingers before placing them back at his entrance.   
  
He placed the wand onto the floor next to Ron’s underwear. He brushed his fingers across the hole and felt Ron flinch at the newly cool and moist fingers. Ron turned his head from the pillow in surprise.  
  
“You’ve got to relax,” Harry explained. "Maybe it will be easier if you lie on your back?”  
  
Ron look stunned, his face flushed slightly at Harry's suggestion.  
  
“You think?”  
  
Harry nodded and gripped his arm, encouraging him to turn over. Harry lay down next to him so that they were facing each other, and closed any distance there was as he squeezed Ron’s arse and pulled it towards him. It felt so right to be this close to Ron, to be able to touch him like this, but he knew that Ron was still feeling a little awkward. He felt a bit rigid against Harry, and seemed to flinch whenever he touched him.  
  
“You all right?” Harry asked, their lips so close that Harry could feel his breath on his own each time Ron exhaled.  
  
“Just…” Ron started, but he didn’t seem to know what he was. Harry ran a hand up and down Ron's back soothingly, as he sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s… It’s you,” he added in explanation.  
  
Harry kissed him slowly and muttered against his lips, “Exactly. It’s just me.”  
  
Ron kissed him back harder and Harry continued to caress his back as the kiss deepened. Ron’s hand began to press the back of Harry’s head, pulling him as close as possible and Harry moved his hand down to Ron’s arse to do the same. Thinking that Ron was unlikely to get any more relaxed than this, he slipped a finger between Ron’s arse cheeks, still slightly lubed up, and pushed against Ron’s entrance lightly. Ron hissed as Harry's finger breached him. His face screwed up in apparent pain, and Harry began to regret acting so rash.   
  
“Fuck, Harry…” he cursed.  
  
“Sorry,” Harry said quickly, and he began to remove his fingers, but Ron protested.  
  
“Just get it over with,” he said roughly, and Harry obeyed by slowly moving his finger further in. It was difficult. Ron seemed to get tighter the further he pushed in. Although his cock was still throbbing, he was more worried about hurting Ron. He grunted and hissed some more as Harry moved in and just a little bit out, and then in again. He kissed Ron again and after a couple of minutes he felt Ron's body become less stiff and found that his finger was gliding in and out much more easily. With no wand in reach, he concentrated his hardest to use some wandless magic to add lube to another finger.  
  
“Fuck,” Ron said again, as Harry's second finger joined the first, but it was different this time. Although there was a slightly pained hiss, Harry was aware that Ron had pushed back against his fingers as though willing him to go further. Harry tried to speed up a little bit and found that Ron was meeting his thrusts each time. Once Ron began to moan, Harry couldn’t hold back anymore, he was already so close and knew he wouldn’t last very long but he had to know what it was like to bury himself in Ron’s arse.  
  
“Ready?” he asked Ron, with another thrust of his fingers and Ron murmured a 'yes'.  
  
He removed his fingers, causing Ron to whimper slightly and lubed up his hard, throbbing cock. Harry knelt at Ron’s arse and positioned his legs at either side of him. He placed his prick at Ron’s prepared entrance and, not wanting either one of them to lose confidence, pushed into it with as much force as he could muster. Ron nearly screamed, and Harry closed his eyes as his own body tried to adjust to Ron’s tightness.  
  
After a few seconds of nothing, Harry began to plunge into Ron again and again, unable to stop himself. He heard moans and mumbling but, at first, was unable to tell whether he or Ron was making the noise. His senses were on overload. His skin was tingling all over at this incredible new sensation and it seemed so unreal every time he heard Ron mutter his name.   
  
“Fuck, Harry. Fuck. Shit. Oh…”   
  
“So… fuck… close,” Harry gasped. He held Ron’s cock and began to pump in time to his erratic thrusts. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer, and he wanted Ron to come at the same time as he did. After another thirty seconds or so of driving into Ron’s arse with all his might and fisting at his cock, he felt Ron clench around him as he cried out and came. It pushed Harry finally over the edge and he filled Ron whilst still thrusting uncontrollably.  
  
He let Ron’s legs fall as he pulled out, and crawled to lie next to him. He placed his hand over Ron’s chest, which was rising and falling heavily, and kissed his collarbone.   
  
“Thanks,” Harry said as he tried to control his irregular breathing.   
  
“I didn’t do anything,” Ron whispered, eyes closed. “I should be the one thanking you.”   
  
That’s not exactly what Harry had meant. Harry didn’t know what he could say to make Ron realise what he had done for Harry. He’d done everything for him. Harry knew that he’d continue to do everything for him.   
  
“Harry?”  
  
“Hmmm…”  
  
“Maybe we are gay,” Ron suggested.  
  
Harry smirked and closed his eyes, the need for sleep beginning to wash over him.   
  
“Yeah, maybe."


End file.
